It’s not a clear memory but one that’s through the lens of a constantly flickering old camera, bursts of light that hits the front of the lens to remove the image and then it changes and shifts.
Summer Vine
It’s not a clear memory but one that’s through the lens of a constantly flickering old camera, bursts of light that hits the front of the lens to remove the image and then it changes and shifts. An old, dry greenhouse with a potting shed beyond where soil gently covers the baked paving slabs and the sound of a distant bee is a constant reassuring backing. You can turn the camera and notice the plenitude of green Tomato vines that fill ground, air and ceiling to the left and right of the bath through the greenhouse.
Vines creep over the floor and between each slab with the dusty gravel keeping away weeds and allowing the vines above to flow and weave their way. An old, cracked wood handled, trowel is lodged firmly in a bag of compost that sits on old standing wood bench in the corner. Dusty wood, light earth and green vined red fruit create an awesome image of nature and its bounty.
Listen to the 'Summer Vine' poem written by our store manager Michał:
Read more about Michał's poetry on somecoolwords.online